Work Text:
"Jesus," Liam says, for about the eighth time. "You’re gonna kill us."
"I think you’ll find I’m an excellent driver," Noel says. "Didn’t you see the video?"
Liam rolls his eyes, but admits, "Yeah, I did. You looked like a right twat."
"Come on," Noel says. He sounds, almost, offended. "Better than the one with the horse, right?"
"Couldn’t say, I didn’t catch that one," Liam lies. Of course he saw it. He and the rest of the band have seen all of Noel’s videos – Gem loads them up, and Liam and Andy stick around like it’s a chore, making snide comments. "I like the one where he’s the ref," Andy said at one point. "It looks like there’s a chance he might get punched."
They never talk about the music. There's too much of a risk one of them might admit that some of it's fucking top. But Liam can't just ignore all of it. He’s kept up with Noel as much as he can the last three years, even if he tries to seem like he’s doing exactly the opposite.
He somehow missed, though, hearing about Noel finally getting his driver’s license – that is, until Noel called him up and said, "I’m outside your house. Get your leopard print shoes on and get out here."
Liam came out in trainers and a hooded sweatshirt, but that’s not the point. Point is, Noel called him like it was fucking nothing and decided they were taking a roadtrip. Liam’s immediate reaction was to suspect Noel’s been drinking, or that he’s reliving the nineties (which might be interesting for Liam, at least, since he doesn’t remember most of that decade). Either that, or Noel’s just finally fucking cracked.
He got in the car anyway. Three years apart and three hundred articles of them slagging each other off and still, if Noel tells him to jump he’ll ask how high – once he’s done telling him to get fucked.
"Where’s the Rolls Royce?" Liam asked as he got in the passenger seat and buckled up.
"Ah," Noel said. "Bit classy for the likes of you, don't you think?"
Liam thought maybe he should’ve gotten out of the car then, but he can’t help himself around Noel – it’s always been his problem. He flipped Noel off and Noel said, "Same to you, then," before he pulled away from the curb and drove off.
It’s been nearly fifteen minutes and several near car accidents, now. Liam’s asked twice where they’re going, to no reply. He looks over at Noel. Noel has his sunglasses on, so it’s even harder to read him, to tell just what the fuck he’s thinking. Liam’s tense, nervous, but more than anything – confused. They’ve texted now and again since everything with City, even exchanged birthday texts and asked after each other’s little ones, but they’ve never suggested seeing each other.
After the third stop sign Noel nearly drives past and eighteen minutes of near-silence, Liam needs a fag, badly, so he digs one out of his pocket and starts to light it.
Noel reaches over and snatches it out of his hands – without, to his credit, taking his eyes off the road. "Not in here," he says. He tucks the cigarette behind his ear. Liam thinks about snatching it back, but there've been enough near-accidents already and Liam cares about the safety of others, he really does. "Sarah’ll have me head."
"All the more reason," Liam says, but he puts the cigarettes away. It’s fair enough, he guesses – the car’s full of kids’ stuff, bits of toys, a glove without a pair, candy wrappers. There aren’t any car seats, but you can tell where they’ve been. It’s a family car, Noel’s family, which just makes Liam question further what the fuck he’s doing here when Noel’s made it clear where Liam stands in that respect.
Before Liam can ask again, Noel says, "So I guess you saw the article."
Liam feels his insides twist up further. He doesn’t want to talk about this now. He did days ago, when he first saw it. He wanted to call Noel up and call him every syllable for fucking cunt he could think up, but Nic convinced him not to. "You know what journalists are like," she’d said, and Liam does, he does, but he also knows what Noel’s like. At least, he thought he did.
"You’ll have to be more specific," he says. "I’m well-read, me."
Noel snorts, but says, "Right you are. Daily readings of Green Eggs and Ham and Ulysses, that’s you. I mean the one where I said – you know."
"Right," Liam snipes. "Not for all the starving children in Camden, right?"
"I think I said the world," Noel says. He clenches the steering wheel. "Anyway, what I meant was –"
"I know what you fucking meant," Liam says, nerves turning to anger in the time it takes Noel to find his left turn signal. "We all did."
"No, you –" Noel starts, but Liam interrupts.
"Not for all the money in the world, right?" Liam asks. "Not if it was my dying wish?"
The light they’re waiting at turns green, but Noel hasn’t figured that out yet. He’s looking at Liam. He asks, "You aren’t dying, are you?"
"Me?" Liam gestures to himself. "I’m gonna live forever. Also, green means go, you cunt."
"Right," Noel says. He pulls forward just as the cars behind him start beeping. Liam’s fuming so much he thinks some of what he’s thinking might be audible. It’s one thing for Noel to have said it – like Nic pointed out, journalists are always twisting his words – but that it took this for him to call Liam up, when Liam’s been waiting three fucking years – when Liam’s given in and called, enough times to lose count, with nothing to show for it but changed numbers –
"Look," Noel says. "Gem’s not even spoken to me since all that, so I’m not expecting you…"
"Then why haven’t you taken him for a Sunday drive instead?" Liam asks. "Maybe a nice fuckin’ picnic in the park?"
"Well, he won’t pick up the phone, will he?" Noel asks. He shrugs. "I asked him to make the sandwiches and he said it was the last straw."
Liam ignores him. "So I’m last choice as usual, am I?" He knows that he’s acting like a child, but Noel brings that out of him. Always has.
It’s worth it, though, because it flicks some kind of switch and Noel says "Liam," in a way that he hasn’t in years. Liam looks over and tries to see Noel’s eyes behind those fucking sunglasses. "No," Noel says. "Not – not at all, all right?"
It’s nearly enough, nearly what Liam needs to hear, but he can’t let himself hope for even this much, not anymore. "You could’ve called before," is all he says.
"Right," Noel says. "Because that’s always worked so well." Noel takes one hand off the wheel to mime picking up the phone. "Alright, Liam? It’s Noel. Click!"
"Bollocks," Liam says. Noel picks up his fake phone again. "Liam, Noel again. You coming into the studio any time soon? Click!"
"Whatever," Liam says. "I picked up today, didn’t I? Where are we going?"
"Miraculously," Noel says. He shrugs. "I thought maybe we’d head to the beach. Beautiful day, and all that."
"Guess so," Liam says. "Only last I heard, you can’t swim. What if you crash into the ocean?"
"Not to worry," Noel says. "I’ve got water wings in the back."
"Right," Liam says. They’re quiet, then, a momentary truce, and Liam takes out his phone to text Andy: in the car w our Noel & he's DRIVING. what do I do?
Get out while you can, Andy texts back not a minute later. In case he’s got the childproof locks on, break the glass.
Liam grins, but he puts his phone away without responding and looks back over at Noel. He's waiting for Noel to say something, anything. He can’t get comfortable, not with everything the way it’s been. He reaches forward and starts fiddling with the radio dials, before he remembers he hates most music after 1980. He tries to settle back against the headrest, even though this car was built for people with much shorter legs.
"Is that Gem on the phone?" Noel asks.
"Nic," Liam says. He’s not sure why he lies – maybe he wants to remind Noel (and himself) that he’s got a wife now, a family. He may be a rockstar, but he’s also an adult, and he shouldn’t just go off like this. At least not without writing his kids to say their dad loves them, but their absent uncle's on a bender or a midlife crisis or something so maybe he'll catch them in the next life.
"She all right?" Noel asks, and Liam buries the urge to ask since when do you care? and says, "Fine. I told her to send out a search party in case you drive us both into a ditch."
"Don’t worry, Thelma," Noel says. "We’ve got years left."
"If you say so, old man."
Noel laughs. Liam wishes he didn’t want to take that sound and bottle it up, keep it for good luck. "Watch it, you whippersnapper. Forty’s not far off from forty-five. You’ll get your dentures and house slippers soon enough," he says, reaching over to pat Liam’s leg.
The move is casual, something Liam wouldn’t have noticed years back, but now he jumps about a foot. Noel breaks unnecessarily, then hits the gas again, earning him a beep from the car behind. "Sorry," he says. He looks in the mirror at Liam, eyes peering over his sunglasses.
Liam meets his gaze and asks, "Is that all you’re sorry for?" Noel opens his mouth, but he takes too long to answer and Liam says, "Forget it," before he turns his head away and looks out the window.
*
Liam wakes up to acid house. Incredibly loud acid house.
He wakes up snorting and snuffling like the dog when one of the kids (okay, Liam) wakes her up in the middle of a dream, unaware of his surroundings until he nearly strangles himself with the safety belt, until he bangs open the glovebox with his knee and half a dozen toy cars fly onto the floor.
"Fucking hell," he says, and it’s only when Noel says, "Morning, sunshine," that he remembers.
It’s not morning, of course. Liam only dozed off for a bit – he’s not been sleeping well lately. Without touring, without constant promotion like the band used to do, he’s left with too much energy that keeps him up half the night and leaves him exhausted by the mid-day.
"Fuck off," Liam says. He can’t figure out how to turn the volume down on the stereo, so he just pushes all the buttons until something shuts it off. "Where are we?"
Noel smiles and laughs, and Liam wishes he was asleep again so his stupid chest didn’t clench up at the sight of that. "I forgot what a treat you are when you wake up. Nearly there," he adds, when Liam scowls at him.
Liam pulls down the sunshield and checks himself in the mirror. His hair's in a state, and he should've shaved this morning. "What the fuck was that noise?"
Noel shrugs. "I needed something to drown out your snoring, didn’t I? Crazy music. Donovan loves it."
Liam’s throat tightens; his hands itch for a cigarette. It hasn’t been just missing Noel – he’s missed out on the kids’ lives, too. "Beats listening to his dad’s music, right?" he asks.
"Easy," Noel says. "No need to start all that up. Anyhow, here we are."
Liam flicks the sunshield back up up as Noel turns (without signaling left or right) into a parking lot. "Noel," he says, when he sees the signs. "This is the aquarium."
"Well spotted," Noel says. "Guess you won’t need bifocals just yet."
"You’re older than me, you twat. I thought we were going to the beach."
"My eyesight is still fantastic, like the rest of me," Noel says, just before he nearly hits a minivan that’s backing out of a space. He takes the space and then asks, "Close enough, innit?"
"What, to the car next to us? Yeah, how d’you expect me to get my fat arse out of the car?"
"Pretend it’s the nineties," Noel says. Liam puts one hand to his nostril and snorts an invisible line off the dashboard, and then begins the delicate process of getting out of the car without scratching the one to the side of him before following Noel. There’s tons of kids and parents outside, and Liam hesitates until Noel wraps his fingers around his wrist and tugs him forward a step or two. "Don’t fuss," Noel says. "If you’re good, I’ll buy you an ice cream."
"I’ll hand it off to some of the starving children," Liam says, but he lets Noel lead him to the building without further hesitation. This isn’t exactly what he pictured it’d be like to see Noel again, but he guesses this way’s less likely to end in black eyes.
As they’re queuing up, Liam takes his phone out to shut it off, but shoots off a text to Gem first: at the aquarium w rkid. what do I do? Before they’ve reached the front, Gem answers: Toss him in the shark cage and claim he slipped. Liam snorts, and shows the text to Noel. "Well, that's the last time I invite him for any picnics," Noel says. "Right, then. Best behavior for both of us."
*
Liam’s not about to admit it, but it’s the most fun he’s had in years. It’s not anything they ever really did as kids – they never had the money. Once, he and Noel snuck into the zoo by ducking under the barrier while no one was looking. They made it a good half hour before one of the staff caught up with them in the monkey house, and even then they got to stay when Noel convinced the guy that it was Liam’s dying wish to see some monkeys throw their own crap at each other.
"Keep coughing," Noel said to him at the time, and the staff felt so bad that they even got free ice cream out of the deal.
Now, they both keep their sunglasses on like the twatty too-cool aging rockstars that they are, but other than that – it’s a fucking blast. They run about like little kids, buzzing off the otters and the sea turtles, the big fish and the tiny little ones, the sharks. Liam keeps muttering madferitmadferitmadferit in Noel’s ear like he’s twelve, like he’s twenty-one, dragging Noel in front of every tank ‘til they’ve named all the fish, figured out their lives and motives.
"E’yare, that one, we’ll name him Dummy. Look how slow he moves, man, like he’s got nothin’ to fuckin’ do," Liam says of one.
"Cause he hasn’t," Noel points out. "He’s a fish."
"Hey!" Liam says, flicking Noel on the back of the head. "That’s our fish you’re talking about."
"Yeah, and you’ve given him a terrible name. Think a bit, would you?" Noel looks at Liam over his sunglasses. "I bet you can’t even point him out from the rest of the fish anymore. They all look the same."
Just to be annoying, Liam spends fifteen minutes looking for the fish again – whose real name Noel insists is Turtle - while Noel entertains a rotating cast of kids by insisting all the fish are really just in one big race. "Found him!" Liam says about twenty times, only for Noel to glance over and say, "Nope, yours had a funny spot," or, "Nah, Turtle's bigger than that, he eats his greens."
They spend half an hour in the gift shop, picking out things for their kids, their missus – stuffed seals and dolphins, shark hats and starfish rings, big ugly glow-in-the-dark jellyfish. Liam keeps pestering Noel to buy him things and even though Noel bitches that Liam’s a millionaire – and a millionaire he’s about to leave with the rest of the jellyfish "so now you can live the reality of Spongebob like you've always wanted" – he pays for all of it.
"Cheers, Squidward," Liam says as the checkout girl rings them up. She’s nervous and keeps hitting the wrong keys, and Liam’s probably not helping by grinning and winking at her, dodging back and forth from the counter to add more things. It's just, who doesn't want a bottle opener shaped like a walrus?
"Does that make you the retarded starfish?" Noel asks.
"Nah," Liam says. "I’m like that squirrel in the spacesuit. Fish outta water, me."
Noel shoves one of the bags at him to carry. "You are a squirrel in a spacesuit, idiot. And a woman as well. Now let’s find me some food. I bet they’ve got sandwiches shaped like whales or summat."
Liam’s still buzzing by the time they leave, grinning big and stupid and happy, and it’s not Knebworth or Maine Road; it’s not a number one album, but for a second, just a second, it feels like it. It feels better than all of that.
"We should've done this years ago," Liam says as they're walking back to the car.
"Years ago?" Noel asks. "What, the two of us coked to the eyeballs running about staring at penguins? You starting fights with seals for saying the wrong thing about your shoes? I don't think so."
"Fuck off," Liam says, embarrassed. He can never convince his words to sound how he means, not unless there's a guitar backing them up. They find the car and shove their things in the backseat. "I mean, just this, you know. You can have a good time without being smashed, can't you?"
Noel stops where he is on the driver's side, about to open the door. "Liam Gallagher saying you can have a good time without drinking. Can I quote you on that?"
"Fuck off," Liam says again. "I just meant, you know -" this was good. He gets in the car and nearly steps on the ten tiny toy ones on the floor. By the time he's gathered all the little cars and trucks up and set them back in the glovebox, Noel's gotten in. He's not looking over, but he knows Noel's looking at him. "Just shut up, all right?" he asks. This is why they never talk about anything. It's easier to talk about fucking manta rays and whether the one that killed Steve Irwin is a legend in the ocean than it is to talk about them.
"I didn't say a word," Noel says, in that way he has of saying you're an idiot without using any of those words exactly. He gets the key in the ignition and starts up the car. Liam remembers who he's dealing with as a driver and gets his safety belt on. "Now," Noel says as he starts to back out of the lot. "Don’t start sulking just because you didn’t get to swim with any dolphins."
"No, I just got to spend the day with a twat," Liam says.
"Love you, too," Noel answers, and it’s a joke, but it still leaves Liam speechless for a minute, unable to look away from Noel. Then he says, like it's easy, "But not as much as you love Pot Noodle."
"Never that," Noel says.
"Twat," Liam says again, but this time he means, nearly, thanks.
*
It’s a long drive back. Liam’s pretty sure Noel gets lost a couple times, but he doesn’t bother trying to direct him, not entirely sure of the way himself. Besides, he’s trying to prolong this whole thing – six hours, give or take, and he hasn’t figured out what it’s about.
They don’t talk much. They battle over what to listen to, going through station after station until one of them finds a Stones track and they settle for a bit, both struggling not to sing along.
It’d be too close to what they don’t do, anymore.
The track fades out, and Noel asks, breaking nearly fifteen minutes of silence, "D’you think we should’ve been like Mick and Keith, and written together?"
Liam’s thought about that before – how the band might’ve been if they’d written as a group, instead of separating off – but he figures they probably would’ve just been at each other’s throats more. "I'd rather be John Lennon, man," he says.
Noel looks over at him. It’s getting dark, so his sunglasses are finally off, and Liam can just about see the tired lines under his eyes, the five o’clock shadow forming along his jaw. "Who says you’re him, huh?" he asks, and Liam doesn’t answer, just points to himself like he means come on. "Anyway," Noel says. "He was dead by our age."
"You going somewhere, Noely?"
"I shouldn’t think so. These bones have years left in them. Besides," Noel says, grinning, "I’m aiming to get knighted like old Paul."
"You’d fuckin’ love that," Liam says. He would, too, he guesses – the idea of it, anyway. If offered, he’d probably end up telling the queen to stuff it. He doesn’t need some old lady tapping him with a sword and telling him he’s brilliant. "Lennon was forty when he died," he says. "My age."
Noel looks at him in the mirror. "Shut up, all right?" he scolds. "No one’s fuckin’ dying."
"Just saying, man," Liam says, shrugging.
"Yeah, well don’t." The car swerves for a moment as Noel reaches into his coat pocket for his cigarettes. "Can’t smoke in here," Liam reminds him, and Noel scowls, but pulls the car over to the side of the road. Sharply. It’s probably a miracle they’re both still alive – although Liam guesses that could be said for a lot of what they’ve done, anyway.
They both stand outside the car and light up. On the first exhale, Noel says, looking over at him, "You aren’t going anywhere, John-boy, all right? Besides, what’ll I do without you around to annoy the piss out of me?"
Liam looks at his feet. He takes a drag from his cigarette, then another, and says, looking into the distance, "You did just fine the last three years."
"Yeah, well," Noel says. "Not really."
When Liam glances over, Noel looks skittish, like he might get in the car and drive off without Liam any second, but he’s actually looking at Liam, no barriers between them, for the first time in, well - even Liam doesn't know.
It's enough to give him the stones to ask what he's been meaning to since this morning. "What d’you want, Noel? What’s all this shit about?" He takes another drag on his cigarette, then asks, "Do you want the band back together?"
"No," Noel says. "I mean, maybe – no." He shakes his head. Liam thinks his ego would’ve been fine with just the one no.
"Then what?" he asks. Now that he's started, the questions all burst out at once, unstoppable. "Why the fucking roadtrip? Why the phonecall? Why –" before he knows it, he’s so much closer to Noel, nose to nose with him, stubby finger pointed at Noel’s chest, cigarette glowing between his fingers. He thinks about grabbing, taking – but it’s not the time.
Noel asks, not flinching, "Why’d you call me at 3AM every night for six months after I left? Because I missed you, you idiot. I missed us."
It's not what Liam expected to hear. On his good days he thinks he's the greatest thing since the Beatles, all four combined, but he's never really thought Noel might miss him. Not the band, not the money, not someone singing his songs for him - just him.
Liam moves forward until his forehead touches Noel’s, until they’re breathing the same cigarette-laced airspace for one second, two, three, and then he takes two steps back. If Noel had said it years ago, Liam would’ve lifted him up like a ragdoll, pulled Noel to him before he could escape again. He’d be achingly, suffocatingly happy.
But.
"Why now?" he asks. It’s too late. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
Noel shrugs. "I’ve been busy, haven’t I?"
Maybe it’s just that he’s out of practice, but Liam’s getting a bit tired of telling Noel to fuck off. He drops his cigarette to the ground and gets back in the car, slamming the door so hard he's half-waiting for the sound of broken glass.
Noel stays outside and finishes his cigarette. Liam watches him from the side mirror, sees him pick up his phone, hears him murmur love you down the line even though the windows are shut. He thinks about texting Nic and telling her the same, but he’s frozen, wishing it were ten years ago, fifteen years ago, twenty – he feels old, and tired, and sad. He shuts his eyes until he hears the click of the car door, the key in the ignition, until he smells Noel’s cologne and girly fucking cigarettes.
Then he looks at Noel and says, "I missed us, too, you know. But you’re still a fucking cunt."
Noel looks at him like he’s really fucking listening, like for once Liam’s talking and Noel’s not off somewhere else, anywhere else. "Fair enough," he says.
*
They keep the music off, and they don’t talk. It’s getting late, and Liam’s been up since six at least, so even with the mood being what it is, he drifts in and out of sleep. He doesn’t dream, though – barely shuts his eyes. Noel’s a constant presence next to him, hardly reassuring, but there all the same.
They’re nearing Liam’s street when Noel asks, "Would it help if I said I was sorry?"
Liam turns his head from the window and they look at each other in the mirror, tired eyes seeing tired eyes, but Liam doesn’t say anything for two, three blocks. He reaches in back to gather up his things and Noel pulls up outside Liam’s house and it’s quiet, so quiet. The lights are on in his house but he can’t hear Nic or the kids and for a second, he doesn’t even want to.
That’s always been the problem. When Noel’s around, Liam never seems to need anything else – it just doesn’t hold true when you reverse it.
Part of him wants to tell Noel to stuff it, still. He wants to say he’s tried, tired of their stupid fucking games, all the fumbling and the phonecalls and the stupid fucking heartache and the way they both act like nothing’s even wrong.
It’d be the truth, if he said it, but not entirely. What he says, what he means is, "It’s a start." It’s dark, but Noel smiles at him, at him, and Liam knows that he’ll take another hundred kicks in the chest just for that.
Noel keeps smiling, and then he leans across the seat a bit 'til he's right in Liam's space and Liam can see all the wrinkles and the grey hairs and the lines, pores and veins and freckles. Then Noel flutters his stupid eyelashes and asks, "So will you call me, then?"
Liam smacks him on the side of the head with one of the stuffed animals he’d been using as a pillow. "Fuck off," he says, but what he means is of course. He doesn't have to say it, though. Noel laughs at him and Liam gets out of the car with a rustle of shopping bags and muttered fuck offs, but when he turns toward the house his smile makes his cheeks hurt.
As the car pulls away, Liam takes out his phone and texts Andy. survived an outing with Noely G., he writes. maybe he’s calming down in his old age.
Or you are, Andy texts back. Still say you should’ve kicked him in the balls.
there’s always next time, Liam answers.
And, for the first time in three years, it’s true.